


(and isn't it just so pretty to think) all along there was some invisible string tying you to me

by dubcliq



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, post S1
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29410527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dubcliq/pseuds/dubcliq
Summary: Hope feels a tug in her chest, like something is pulling her to Josie. Maybe it's fate, maybe it's not—but it anchors her all the same.(Or: Hope defeats Malivore and comes back changed. Josie remembers her. Sort of.)
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson/Josie Saltzman
Comments: 20
Kudos: 144





	(and isn't it just so pretty to think) all along there was some invisible string tying you to me

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to amiphobic, who would rather be referred to as "my lifelong writing partner" than as an alpha, and to Lynn and reliquiaen for being my betas!

_ Time, curious time _ _  
_ _ Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs _

//

It’s quiet at the diner, even for a late Monday evening. They usually get a couple of truckers looking for a coffee refill and some brief conversation around this time, but maybe there’s a strike going on, or maybe the sludge from the gas station next door has suddenly gained some new, hidden appeal. Whatever the reason, the lack of tips really aren’t making up for the extra buck an hour she had been looking forward to when she switched to nights. 

A glance at the analog clock on the wall behind the counter tells her that she has a little under an hour left. She busies herself wiping down the counters again, humming along as Janis Joplin’s voice blares out of the old jukebox wedged in the far corner, daring someone to take another little piece of her heart. There’s probably a vamp joke in there if she tries hard enough, she thinks, and rubs insistently against what looks to be a scorch mark instead.

She really needs to shake off all this restless energy, needs to stop feeling like something’s about to happen. Maybe if she could go for a run like she used to... but no, that's not an option anymore. She drops the rag on the counter with a huff, wiping her hands on her apron. 

The bell dings, and she turns, eager for the distraction—

“Josie.” The name falls from her lips before she realizes. It’s a whisper, but somehow, the girl’s— _ Josie’s _ —eyes zero in on her, brow furrowed. For a second, she believes that maybe Josie is simply trying to place her face, that maybe she looks  _ familiar _ , but the louder part of her brain is screaming  _ It’s not possible, it’s not possible, it’s not _ — 

“Welcome—” Her voice hitches a little, and she clears her throat. Tries again. “Welcome to The Diner Train. Feel free to sit anywhere you’d like.” She waits for Josie to start heading for one of the unoccupied booths or one of the seats by the counter, but she doesn’t move a muscle. In fact, she hasn’t stopped staring. Staring at _ her. _

Feeling a little awkward, she blindly reaches behind for one of the menus on the counter, hoping it will mask the slight tremble in her hands and the itch to do something monumentally stupid, like lunge forward to hug the other girl. She looks over her shoulder for a split second, because  _ where the fuck are the menus _ ,  _ why are they not within reach _ , and all of a sudden, Josie is there, not even two feet away from her.

“Um, right,” she says, trying to recover from the sudden proximity, and of course, the staring, because really, she’s a  _ stranger _ , and it should be creepy, but it’s mostly just unnerving, because she’s also kind of  _ not _ , and—“The counters are available as well, here, let me—”

“...Hope?”

//

Hope strides away, fixated on the dimly lit alley pavement ahead, as if taking it one step at a time will get her far enough from Josie and the life that left her behind.

“Hope,” Josie repeats. “Hold on.”

“You’ve got the wrong person,” Hope says, shaking her head determinedly, and absolutely does not look back.

“Your name tag says  _ Hope _ .”

And damn it, Josie’s right. Hope tears said name tag from her shirt, whipping it into the next trash can she sees. “It was my coworker’s. Not even someone I like,” she insists, still trying to outpace her pursuer.

“You look like you recognized me earlier.”

“Nope, sorry. So you should definitely stop following me before I get the wrong idea.”

“Okay, well, this will be a weird question then, but why do I remember you sometimes?”

That stops Hope in her tracks, and Josie nearly collides with her at the abrupt stop. Heart hammering, Hope forces herself to remain stoic as she turns, and fuck, if it isn’t so good to see a familiar face. Josie looks exactly like Hope remembers, with her soft brown eyes and dark, wavy hair, and it would be comforting if it weren’t so painful to be confronted with a slice of home. 

A dangerous feeling beats against her ribcage— _ please remember, please _ —threatening to break free.  _ Please remember.  _ She takes a deep breath and shoves all of that into her well of repressed emotions to unpack later or never. 

“Well,” she says instead, “I guess there are still some bad pick-up lines out there that I haven’t heard before.”

“It’s not a bad pick-up line,” Josie defends, before her eyes widen. “I mean, it’s not a pick-up line  _ at all _ !”

“What do you mean, you remember me sometimes?” Hope asks, clenching her hands into fists to stop them from shaking. Are Malivore’s effects somehow wearing off? Wisps of a foolish daydream—a return to the familiar, to normalcy—dance at the edge of her mind. If the memories return, will everything else—

“Sometimes I get this flash of memory… and you’re there with me, holding my hands as we cast a spell. Dark magic to be specific. And I’m pretty sure I don’t know any dark magic.” 

Whatever delusion Hope had indulged in the past dies now. This is something else. And somehow she still hasn’t learned her lesson, because it stings. Still, curiosity bubbles up inside of her, but she ignores it, ignores it, ignores it.

“Look,” she says, shifting uncomfortably, “I’m not really on break right now, and I’m closing tonight.”

“I can wait!”

Hope flounders at Josie’s sincerity. It’s so like her, and once again Hope is hit by just how much Josie is exactly as she remembers, down to the middle part of her hair and penchant for wearing yellow.

She struggles to reconcile this image with the ones in her head.

(In the quiet moments, when she allowed herself to think about her old life, everyone was always different. In the quiet moments, she imagines how everyone moves on,  _ has _ moved on, without her.)

“...Hope?”

She snaps out of…whatever that was, clearing her throat to dispel the lingering awkwardness she feels. Still recovering from the echoes of loss, she realizes Josie's still waiting for an answer. “We can’t talk here.” 

“Oh.” Josie furrows her brow, pondering. “Well, we could go over to yours?”

Hope aches to give her what she wants, but when she smiles, it's too soft and all wrong for the moment. Instead, she musters up a sly half-smile and opts for deflection. "That's...bold," she teases, lifting an eyebrow though her attempt falls flat.

Even so, Josie's cheeks flush immediately as she rises to the provocation. “We can also go back to school!” She practically screeches. “I brought my dad’s minivan!”

“Right.” Hope tilts her head, pondering her options. She would prefer if Josie didn’t know where she was staying, and really, she’d rather have the option of leaving if things get uncomfortable. Well, more uncomfortable.

Misreading the reason for her reluctance, Josie says, “I’m a safe driver, I promise! I passed the test on the first try, and I don’t get road rage like my sister Lizzie. And—”

Inwardly sighing, Hope dips her head in silent acquiescence.

“Really?” Josie grins widely, bouncing on the balls of her feet. There’s a tinge of disbelief in her tone, as if she hadn’t expected Hope to give in so quickly.

Hope rolls her eyes, because she  _ shouldn’t _ have given in so quickly. “Yeah.” 

//

The floor and stovetops are in dire need of cleaning, and by the time Hope finishes up, an hour has gone by. She dims the lights and quickly checks to make sure that Brian isn’t still in the kitchen before she heads out, making sure the locks are secure.

Alaric’s minivan is just as much of an eyesore as she remembers, and she spots it easily on her way to the parking lot. She slides into the passenger seat, arms crossed reflexively and defensively as soon as the door shuts.

“How did you find me?” She asks, fully intending on getting some answers of her own first.

“Seatbelt, please,” the reply comes without missing a beat.

Hope’s eyes flick over, brows raised expectantly until Josie relents.

“I scryed for you,” Josie admits. ”There  _ are  _ locator spells that don’t require dark magic, you know.” The look she gives Hope is pointed, but her eyes sparkle with a hint of amusement. “I was super confused about that, but I get it  _ now _ .”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Just…you know. You seem kinda…” Josie gestures, and Hope tracks the action down to her own outfit, frowning uncomprehendingly at her black v-neck, dark jeans, and black combat boots.  _ Practical? _ “…broody.” 

Hope opens her mouth, mildly offended.

“Don’t worry though,” Josie reassures, “it  _ totally _ works for you.”

Hope blinks. Is Josie flirting with—nope, she’ll have to process that later. She refocuses on the conversation, wondering, “Are you saying you…did a scrying spell… based on some memory flashes?” She’s never heard of a spell like that before.

“Do you really want all the details, or are you going to tell me why I have these weird half-memories of you?” Josie demands.

Hope sighs. “It doesn’t matter. Whoever you’re looking for, I’m not her.”

“Really?” Josie says, tone flat with disbelief. “So, you’re not the same Hope with ‘a legacy of a thousand years of original sin and darkness?’”

Hope narrows her eyes at the air quotes but doesn’t take the bait. So she was a little dramatic in her  _ youth _ . That was months ago. She’s older now. Wiser. “Nope,” she denies, popping the p sound.

Josie scoffs. “Oh, sure. And you’re definitely not ‘the first and only tribrid, destined to walk alone?’”

“No!”  _ What. The. Fuck.  _ “I mean, yes, I’m not—He was supposed to burn _ everything _ .”  _ Of all the irresponsible—  _

“He?” Josie tilts her head to the side. “Who was supposed to?”

“Nuh-uh. My turn. How did you get your hands on my journal?”

“I didn’t. I have a nosy ex. She spelled some pens to spy on what everyone at Salvatore was writing down. Your journal included.”

Hope frowns. “That’s…really inconvenient.”  _ And invasive. _

“I think you mean  _ helpful _ . I’ve learned more about you from it than from today, Ms. Broody  _ and _ Mysterious.”

“You weren’t supposed to read it at all!”

Josie has the audacity to shrug like it’s no big deal. “Well, it’s not like I can unread it. Believe me, there are many, many entries in there that made me wish I could.”

Hope throws her hands up. “You know what, I can’t deal with this right now,” she says, sulking just a little. “Just…start driving. Please.”

“Seatbelt,” Josie reminds her. Then she adds with a smile, “Please.”

Hope rolls her eyes, but does as she’s told.

As Josie starts the engine and pulls out of the lot, the car descends into silence. Hope notices that she drives carefully, in a way that borders on anxious. Hope can almost hear her cycle through a mental checklist as her eyes dart from the rearview mirror to each side mirror to the speedometer, and the radio remains off because Josie needs to  _ see _ . It’s a little awkward, but Hope is too busy being relieved about not being locked into a conversation in a moving vehicle to complain.

Unfortunately, with nothing to hyperfixate on during a particularly long stoplight, Josie’s nervous energy transforms into nervous rambling.

“I’ve got theories, you know,” Josie tells her, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. She doesn’t wait for a response, continuing, "Like…a few months ago, Landon woke up after ‘vanquishing’ Malivore, having no memory of what he did, and in Lizzie’s words, ‘predictably taking credit with the confidence of a mediocre straight man’. 

“And there’s just absolutely no way he could unless Malivore self-combusted out of frustration because he refused to stay dead. It had to have been someone else. And Malivore is most famous for causing everyone to forget the existence of mythical creatures. This might be a wild guess, but I’ve seen Lizzie make bigger leaps, so here goes…” She takes a deep breath, exhaling dramatically. “Are you the reason Malivore is gone?”

There’s a long pause, and Hope feels Josie staring at the side of her face, anticipating some type of acknowledgement or confirmation. She studies a small crack on the windshield instead, noting that it needs to be repaired before it grows, and absolutely does  _ not  _ feel her heart pound or her eye twitch at the thought of being figured out so quickly.

“The light’s green,” she points out, catching the switch through the corner of her eye.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Hope scowls at Josie’s smug tone. Thankfully, they start moving, effectively ending that conversation.

Josie seems to relax a little as the landmarks indicate they’re getting closer and closer to their destination. Conversely, Hope begins to fidget, and by the time the recognizable front gates are in view, one of her fingers is bleeding from where she picked too hard at the cuticle and her leg is bouncing erratic enough that Josie’s sneaking worried glances her way.

“Do you need me to—”

“Yes.”

Josie pulls over to the side of the road, and Hope lets out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. 

Her leg stills, her fingers flexing, then curling around her kneecaps, once, twice, three times. A slate grey hatchback zooms by, some catchy contemporary Christian song audible through one of its open windows.

“Are you…okay?” Josie asks hesitantly.

“Yes.” Hope’s jaw tenses when Josie makes a move to turn the ignition. “Wait.” 

Josie pauses, biting her lip as her hand falls back on her lap. After a beat of quiet, she says, “If it helps, everyone’s gone for the summer. I can cloak us, if you want to be extra careful.”

“It’s not that,” Hope begins, voice wavering. “I can’t…I can’t go back there. I don’t belong there anymore.”

“Of course you do.”

“No, I don’t,” she insists, willing Josie to drop it, but already knowing that she won’t, not unless Hope elaborates—and how could she, when she hasn’t even allowed herself to admit it to herself out loud? “Look, just trust me on this, okay? You’re better off not remembering me.”

“But I  _ do  _ remember you. For months, I knew Salvatore was missing something important. Now, I know it’s you. How could I ever let go of that?”

“Because there’s nothing else you can do!” 

And suddenly, her ears are ringing and her breaths are coming out in short, exaggerated puffs, and then she’s grasping for the door handle, pulling it once, twice, three times—her brain registers a faint  _ click _ as Josie pushes a button—once, and the door relents. She shoves it open, stumbling out and taking a huge gulp of fresh air. And another, and another—

And then Josie is in front of her, hands hovering uncertainly— _ Can I touch you? _ She doesn’t quite hear the question, but she finds herself nodding, and then Josie’s hands are suddenly clasped around hers, soft and smooth and grounding. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Her voice comes in a low murmur now that she’s so close, their foreheads almost touching. “It doesn’t matter if no one remembers. My parents established the school to create a safe space where supernaturals can—”

“But I’m not,” Hope cuts in, voice cracking at the last word. She wrenches her hands away and takes a step back, hugging herself, as if that act could somehow shield her from the truth. “I’m  _ not _ supernatural. Not anymore. I’m…human.”

A minute passes.

And then another.

Hope studiously avoids Josie’s gaze, focusing inward to get her breathing under control. She manages it, but suddenly longs for the security of the van, feeling too exposed out in the open.

She climbs back inside, pulling the door shut behind her. A few seconds later, Josie slides into the driver’s seat. And for a while, it’s silent between them, Josie burning with questions, and Hope dreading them.

“When you say human, you mean—”

“A regular, run-of-the-mill human.” She takes every effort to inject an air of nonchalance, and  _ damn _ , if that doesn’t hurt. She’s had a couple of months to settle into this new reality, but the hurt lingers, ever-present, ever-renewing, like a scab that keeps getting picked off every time it starts to heal. Jaw clenched, she adds, “So you should just move on, like the rest of the world.”

“But we did dark magic together.” Josie cocks her head slightly to one side, understandably confused.

“I don’t have magic  _ anymore _ ,” she explains, “not since—”

“Malivore.”

“Yeah.”

//

This time, when Josie reaches for the ignition, Hope doesn’t stop her. To her surprise, the van doesn’t turn into the driveway. Instead, Josie makes a three-point turn and goes back down the road they came from. As the school behind them gets smaller and smaller, so too does her anxiety. Even Josie seems to be carrying less tension in her shoulders as she drives.

Hope doesn’t question where they’re going, too emotionally (and physically) drained to have an opinion. She eyes the Little Trees car freshener hanging from the back of the rearview mirror, letting the light, rhythmic swaying of the black paper tree lull her into the quiet corner in her mind. 

It’s only when they drive over a pothole that she’s yanked back to the present. She blinks wearily through the window, noticing that they’ve passed her favorite mom and pop Taiwanese restaurant. She likes to indulge in their soup dumplings once in a while, when even the free food from her shifts gets too redundant. She’d discovered it on her way home the first week after Malivore, when— _ wait. _ Hope turns and narrows her eyes suspiciously at Josie, who immediately notices.

“I wasn’t stalking you or anything,” Josie defends sheepishly, “but I needed answers, and I figured showing up at your place of work was less creepy than your home. So, I scryed twice.”

(It is a  _ little _ like stalking, Hope thinks. And maybe it’s just the whole day catching up to her, but she finds that she’s not as bothered about it as she would have expected.)

//

The sound of a car horn makes Hope turn back just before she reaches the front doors of the Wickery Hotel. She raises an eyebrow but walks back anyway, passing the SRO’s vandalized sign, a letter D spray painted over the first letter. 

“Did I forget something?” She asks, certain she hasn’t.

Josie shakes her head. With her window rolled down, her face is intermittently illuminated by the flickering neon vacancy sign overhead. A lock of hair falls in front of her eyes, and she blows it aside. “No, I just wanted to say that…” She trails off, pressing her lips together thoughtfully. When she speaks again, her voice sounds more confident, sure. “I know you think the world moved on without you while you were in Malivore—that it’s _ still  _ moving on without you. I don’t know about the rest of the world, but I haven’t. And I won’t. We’ll figure this out.”

Hope bites the inside of her cheek, finding Josie’s investment and optimism equal parts endearing and baffling. “Why?”

“ _ Because. _ There has to be a reason that I’m the only one who remembers. Like…”

“Fate?” A light smile plays about her lips.

“Shut up,” Josie says, rolling her eyes. “Just… look. You could have gone anywhere, started fresh. But you chose a diner just off the last exit before you reach the state line. You wanted to stay  _ close _ .” She bites her lower lip, eyes flicking down momentarily before they meet Hope’s. “So just… continue to stay close, okay?”

And Hope feels a tug in her chest, like something is pulling her to Josie. Maybe it's fate, maybe it's not—but it anchors her all the same.

“Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title and lyrics at the start are from invisible string by Taylor Swift. Always looking for song recs for my Hosie writing playlist!


End file.
